The Captain (War Horse AU)
Disclaimers: I don't own the character of Captain Nicholls; no copyright infringement intended. Just wanted to give him an alternate story because he breaks my heart.
France, 1914
1.
After the third time that day that she'd held a soldier's hand as he'd died, the last one crying brokenly for his mother, she felt herself starting to come apart. She ran towards the exit of the hospital tent, tears blinding her eyes.
She nearly collided with a soldier who suddenly appeared at her side. "You mustn't let the men see you like this," she heard him murmur as he took her elbow and guided her outside. Too overwhelmed to respond, she let him lead her into another tent a short distance away. It was the makeshift mess hall, its post-dinner tables empty.
They were alone and it was blessedly silent.
"Here…sit down," he said quietly, gesturing at one of the benches. When she crumpled wearily onto the bench, he sat down beside her and took a handkerchief out of his pocket, holding it out to her.
She grabbed the square of pristine white cloth and sobbed into it. The soldier patted her back gently and spoke softly to her. When she heard him saying the same sort of encouraging words to her as she did to the dying soldiers, it made her cry even harder. He handed her a small silver flask. "Sip this, it will help."
The liquor was stronger than she was used to and made her cough, but its warmth spread through her body and did the job. She stopped sobbing and sat up straighter, raising her head to finally look at the soldier as she handed him back the flask.
He wasn't one of the rank and file; he was a captain, in full uniform. Handsome, and young but with a mature air of authority that made him seem older. The corners of his large blue eyes crinkled warmly when he gave her a small smile. "Better?"
She nodded weakly but couldn't manage to smile back. "Sometimes the cruelty becomes overwhelming….there are so MANY of them, and their injuries are so severe that most times we can do very little to help them. Today it became more than I could bear-I felt completely useless."
"I can assure you that you are not."
"For many of them, all I can do is hold their hand and tell them they'll be alright, when I know damn well they won't be—" She had to stop and breathe deeply to gather herself when her eyes welled with tears again.
"Perhaps having a pretty young nurse hold their hand and speak to them kindly before they slip away is the best thing you can do for the hopeless chaps," the captain said. "It's a much gentler passing than they would've gotten on the battlefield."
They passed the flask between them two or three times more as they exchanged names and small talk. She discovered that the captain hadn't yet seen battle himself; his regiment was scheduled to arrive on the front in one week's time. Her heart ached at the thought of him facing the same horrors these soldiers had been through.
Finally she felt restored enough to go back to the hospital tent. Before they parted, she offered her hand to shake his. "Thank you, Captain. Good luck, and God bless you."
He covered his hand with hers. "And you, Jenny. You'll remember to keep a stiff upper lip in front of the lads?"
"I'll remember."
"Good girl." He smiled at her, and walked away.
2.
One week later, Jenny hurried around the hospital tent as the badly wounded survivors of Captain Nicholls' regiment were brought in after their battle. She approached one stretcher which held an unconscious soldier whose features looked familiar beneath massively bruised skin, his face and torn uniform covered in blood and soil. She quickly examined him and began cleaning his wounds as best she could to prep him for surgery, though her experience told her it was most likely futile. When the soldier started moaning and his eyes flew open and darted around in a panic, her heart sank.
It was him.
She grabbed his hand and squeezed it. "Captain Nicholls…..it's alright. You're safe," she said softly, and he turned to face her. His startling blue eyes were wide with fear as they focused on her. He was gasping for breath. She petted his hand gently and methodically and spoke to him soothingly.
"I don't want to die." His previously calm and mature demeanor was shattered; he sounded as young and vulnerable as all the others who knew they were close to death.
It took a supreme effort to keep her eyes dry and her tone light-hearted. "I've never heard such nonsense; you're going to be fine. We'll fix you up and you'll be as right as rain before you know it."
A sudden look of recognition crossed his face, and his panicked breathing slowed as his face relaxed into a weak smile. His fingers curled around her hand and feebly squeezed it.
"Good girl."
He closed his eyes with a deep breath, still smiling, and his hand relaxed under hers.
End.
Author's note: I want to leave this story here, with its ambiguous ending-maybe Captain Nicholls died right then and there, or maybe he miraculously recovered and lived a long and happy life. I leave it to the reader to decide!