Trigger warning: Surgery and pain. But the gory stuff is mostly suggested, not shown.
Toki was distracted by a series of small grunts behind him. Startled, he lifted his head.
"You shouldn't be cuddling up sho clotsch to him," said a familiar voice. "It'sch really, uh…it'sch just not right."
Toki turned toward a frowning Dr. Muertrevisage. Toki had never been so relieved to see anyone, but the words still annoyed him.
"So says the mans who likes to sticks his knife in everybodys," said Toki, folding his arms.
Dr. Muertevisage flushed red. "How dare you-the insholence!" He had a big bushy block of hair wrapped up in a tiny ponytail behind his head. His unfashionable mustache was as blocky as he was. Toki had heard he was obsessed with the Prussian military and his walls were decorated with flags and rifles. He held in his hand a large bottle of Eau de Planète. There was a jingling sound as his assistants wheeled in a cart with various surgical tools laid out on top.
Toki swallowed. He didn't like the look of it- the forceps, the needles, the knife. The servants weren't much better. There were five of them- large, strapping men with hard faces, and their aprons were stained with a substance that was very possibly blood.
Muertrevisage toyed with the implements, hummed, and looked altogether too happy about the situation.
"Here, hold thish," he said, handing Toki the bottle. Toki took it, and yelped.
"It ams warm," he protested.
Muertrevisage smiled at him indulgently, revealing the gap in his teeth. "Of coursh. I always ush a fresh bottle in shurgeriesh." Toki held the bottle by the cap between his thumb and forefinger.
"Good day, Baron Schwigelf," said Muertrevisage, sweeping his hat below him a deep bow.
Skwisgarr's pupils contracted. He looked towards Toki. "Not. Hims," he mouthed, clutching the pillow beside him. It was painful for him to even gather the air to breathe, let alone speak.
"It ams all right!" said Toki, swallowing. The doubt was plain in Skwisgaar's face, but he had to believe if he was going to pull through. "Muertrevisage ams the best doctors in Versailles."
"In Fransch," corrected Muertrevisage. There was clinking sound as he stirred a reddish-brown substance in a glass vial.
"Yes, in France, and he's, he's-" said Toki, looking to the doctor for guidance.
"The Royal Physician." said Muertevisage. He lifted the vial and studied its contents.
"Hes looks after Hims Majestys himself. You could nots do better, I promise you." Skwisgaar nodded, his head heavy. Toki feared it was only to calm him, but didn't know what more he could say.
Skwisgaar jerked back slightly as the doctor neared him.
"He musts inspects you," said Toki sadly. "It won't hurts," he added, before realizing what a terrible lie that was.
Skwisgaar let his limbs fall flat, but widened his eyes and gritted his teeth as Muertrevisage studied his side. The doctor cracked his knuckles and ran his fingers down the ribs until Skwisgaar yelped.
"There," said Muertrevisage. "That'sch where it ish."
Toki looked at him helplessly.
"The bullet. It hash to come out, and now. Otherwisch it will tear him to pieshes." Muertevisage gave a small smile, as though the idea pleased him.
"But will he…lives?"
Muertevisage shrugged. "He wash shot. Maybe. Maybe not." He took the the bottle of Eau de Planète from Toki and poured it liberally over the wound. Skwisgaar hissed and Toki grimaced.
"Ams you sure that ams good for him?"
Muertrevisage snorted. "Who'sh the doctor here?" He picked up the knife from the tray and spun it around his finger. "My patientsh don't get gangrene. Well, not that much. Or should I call back Dr. Peureux?"
"Please. No," whispered Toki.
Muertrevisage seemed pleased with the answer. "Put a sheet under him," he called to his assistants. "Let'sh get this shtarted." He rubbed his hands together a bit too eagerly.
"Stop!" said Toki. This was all happening much to fast for him. He knew the surgery would be the worst of it, and if something went wrong- I will never see him again.
"You does it here? Don't you haves a laboratory?" he said, stalling for time.
Muertevisage picked up a pair of forceps and snapped them together. "Not posshible. The move would kill him."
Toki slipped to Skwisgaar's side. The blue eyes were open, conscious, and it seemed as though he wished to speak. But with the wound at his side, even breathing was an agony. Every few moments, his gaze fixed on Toki's with a hidden meaning. Toki pressed his hands, and the long fingers slid through his.
His hands, thought Toki, tracing Skwisgaar's palm with his thumb. At least he didn't hurt his hands. It would have been a cruel thing, a horrible thing. But then he would surely live, and Toki wouldn't face this aching, twisting dread.
Muertevisage watched them and sighed. "You sheem like a nisch kid. And a Baron, so they tell me. This proshedure- it may be somewhat brutal for your tastesh. There'sh three dozen courtiersh out there, all eager to watch." He snorted. "And they say I've got blood lusht. Besht you go out and join 'em."
"I will nots!" Said Toki, clutching the bedpost.
"Shuit yourshelf,"said the doctor. "Only don't get in the way."
The assistants slipped a sheet under Skwisgaar's body. Their hands were deft as they cut his shirt from his chest. One gripped his left arm and shoulder, closest to the bed, and held it fast. A second took a rope twisted in a noose, and, pulling it around his ankles, strung his legs to the footboard. Toki could see the panic rising in Skwisgaar's eyes. A third assistant hopped onto the bed and gripped his right arm. Skwisgaar tried to struggle from their grasp, but the pain was too intense, and he went limp. Toki felt the urge to scream.
"Wait!" Toki crawled up on the right side of the bed, and pushed the assistant aside. The man grunted, but slipped away. "I can hold him," he said. "Let me do it."
"You don't know how powerful thesh deshperate men can be. I don't think you're shtrong enough."
Toki furrowed his eyebrows. He was a slim, but he had a muscular build. He stripped off his coat, and quickly untied his cravat.
"I ams strong," he said, and he knew it was clear as he knelt by Skwisgaar's side in his linen shirt.
Muertevisage shook his head. "Very well. But it will not be a pleashant tashk. He will fight you, and you will have to let him shuffer."
Toki shuddered. The doctor had him. But if this were Skwisgaar's final hour, he couldn't let him go alone. He took Skwisgaar's arm and held it fast, and pressed his forehead against his shoulder. It was strange to hold him this way, as though they were seeking pleasure and not the most horrific of pain.
"Ams there anything you can gives him?" asked Toki in a small voice. His knees pressed against Skwisgaar's thigh. "To takes the pain away?"
"I can help him," said Muertrevisage. "But it'sch a fine balancsh." He held up a vial of auburn liquid to the light. "Laudanum."
"That ams what….Dr. Peureux…" Toki started, remembering what the black haired boy had told him.
"I know," said Muertrevisage. "Peureux handsh out this shtuff like candy. And it worksh too. But too much- and your friend diesh. Sho I can make it better, but no, I can't take the pain away."
He let a dozen drops of laudanum fall into a glass of wine.
"Help him drink thish," said the doctor. "It'sh the besht I can do."
Toki pressed the glass to Skwisgaar's lips, and it clinked gently against his teeth. "Drinks," he said. His heart began to race. What words of comfort could he possibly offer? "Please," he said. Skwisgaar parted his lips, and took a shallow breath. Toki poured a small amount of liquid in his mouth.
"So. Bitter," breathed Skwisgaar.
"Shhh," said Toki, smoothing back his hair. "Just drinks."
Slowly, Skwisgaar downed the wine. His eyes grew glassy and he slumped back into the pillow. The drug had its effect.
"Give him thish," said the doctor. He handed him a thick leather strap.
"What ams-" and then Toki paused. He knew. Skwisgaar would need something to bite down on when the pain grew too intense.
Muertevisage removed the heap of bandages. His assistant handed him a small scalpel. Toki felt Skwisgaar trembling in his grasp. His eyes were locked on the blade."
"Do not looks. Don't looks, Skwisgaar," pleaded Toki, and without thinking he turned Skwisgaar's face to the side, towards his, though he would have liked nothing better than to knock the knife from Muertrevisage's hand himself. He grimaced and slipped the leather strip into Skwisgaar's mouth. "Will makes it easier," he said, his voice shaking. He touched his forehead to Skwisgaar's. His face contorted and Toki could make out the high vibrato of a scream through the leather strap.
The knife is in him. It won't get much worse. It can't. Toki clutched Skwisgaar's arm and let the words flow through him like an incantation, but they were of little use. Skwisgaar's face had gone red, and sweat dripped from every pour. He chewed the strap, saliva poured from the sides of his mouth, and he spat out pieces of leather. The strap fell from his mouth and he let out a rending cry. Toki's blood turned to ice.
The doctor's assistant handed Toki another strap, and he slipped it between Skwisgaar's lips. Skwisgaar fought him, bit him so that blood poured from his finger.
"It ams ok, you will bes ok," gasped Toki, and tears slipped salty into his mouth. Meurtrevisage had been right. He had to fight Skwisgaar, fight him every moment or knife might slip and destroy him. The man had an infernal strength born of anguish. The forceps went in, four inches into raw muscle, and Skwisgaar fainted from the pain.
Holding Skwisgaar's damp, limp body, Toki still had the sense that he was careening. His blood ran high, and he desperately wanted something to fight against. Instead, he shook, and held Skwisgaar's arm. The leather strap slipped from Skwisgaar's tongue- it was wet through and gnawed to pieces.
The bullet came out, deformed by heat, and the powerful scent of turpentine and blood permeated the room. Meurtrevisage skillfully dressed the wound. His fingers were thick and stocky and hairy and yet moved with a strange agility. He bound Skwisgaar's midsection in a long roll of cloth to allow the wound to heal.
"He'sh lucky," said the doctor. "He'sh a shkinny man with shkinny guts. The bullet went through the back and barely grazed his kidney."
Toki looked at him, barely daring to speak. "He will lives, then?"
Muertrevisage laughed. The horror of the surgery barely seemed to phase him. Toki knew he lucky to have a surgeon who didn't balk at the task, but it revolted him. "How many timesh musht you ashk me that? It wash a fairly clean wound, conshidering. But the fever hash to come, and to go. Then we'll know."
Toki nodded. His body still reeled, but he moved methodically. Skwisgaar's arms were free but his feet were still bound to the bed. Toki slipped them from the noose. There were deep red marks on Skwisgaar's ankles from where Skwisgaar had struggled and the feet were nearly purple. Toki rubbed them gently until they regained their color. Skwisgaar moaned and his head tossed on the pillow.
"Ams it safe now? Can we gives him more…of the medicines?" Toki didn't have it in him to say 'laudanum.' The word had taken on a meaning too close to death. Meurtrevisage nodded. "A little more won't harm him."
Another glass was produced, and Skwisgaar, though he was barely conscious, managed to down it. His eyelids drooped, and he seemed at ease.
"Ams it. Over?" he slurred.
"Yes, it ams," said Toki, choking on his words. It was so good to hear him speak. Now just pull through. Please. Just a little longer. Skwisgaar's lips were pale but still lovely, still full, still his. There were shades of deep purple in the hollows of his eyes that enhanced their brilliant blue. Toki had a strange longing to see his brow arch, to hear his biting wit, even if it injured his pride, but all Skwisgaar could say was "Stays with me," and opened his hand. It was clammy and limp in Toki's grasp.