3. Gallantry still lives

"You will pay for that." Henry's voice stiffened.

Emie chuckled and took the sewing kit in the drawing.

Henry was holding his hand, which was bleeding heavily.

After Emie had threatened to torture him in the worst ways ever, Henry had crushed his glass of whiskey with so much strength it had exploded and had opened a deep gash in his palm.

"I think you won't need anaesthetics, eh, doc?" She walked towards him, needle in hand, nylon in the other. She looked closely at the wound. "It could have been worse."

He looked at her form, up and down, as she was examining him. He then sneered. "At least, I have a good reason to stay here now."

She huffed. "As if it would stop them. As I understood poor Sergeant Martins, the Major is quite impressive."

Henry snorted. "Jaime? He's a dickhead. Farts up his ass." She chuckled. "I shouldn't say things like that in front of you. You're a woman, after all."

She started sewing his wound and he gritted his teeth together. It stung like the devil! Emie smiled. "Oh, I've heard worse. You speak quite...colourful words when you're dead drunk, you know."

Henry chuckled. "As if."

"Oh, I swear. And what's a "warhead thrower idiot bastard" to you, Henry?"

He leaned in, sending her his strong breath. "You. In the morning."

She stung his palm to make him shush.

He just chuckled more.

"So, are you going?"

He sighed. "What choice do I have?"

Emie cut the string with her teeth and looked up. "What are you afraid of, anyway? You've never fai-"

"I have to be sober."

Her eyes darkened several shades. She put back a strand of hair behind her ear, and sighed. "Oh. Yeah, that can be a problem."

"No, you think?"

She looked at him, determined. "Then, you'd better start now." She exited the room, and Henry soon heard bottles knocking together.

His grey eyes widened, and he ran to the kitchen. "Emie, don't!"

Five days later, Henry and Emie had won the war against alcohol. Henry's hands were still shaking, and he had still harsh moments during the night, but his personal nurse had taken care of him the best.

As they were going to visit a patient, they both heard a whine.

As they turned around to see whose horse it was, a cloud of dust waved in their direction.

Henry pushed her away. "Be careful. They won't look where they're walking."

A column of soldiers came galloping before their eyes, all dressed in green uniforms, with a sword at their hip.

Emie shook her head. What nonsense. Fighting guns and bombs with swords. British logic!

One tall, black horse came in front of all of the others, and stopped. The man on its back was most probably the highest ranked of the company.

Emie noticed his blonde hair under the cap, the thin moustache above the upper lip, and most of all the look of authority written on the man's face. Major Stewart.

"In honour of your King and country, the army requests that every man above 18 takes arms and fights for his country's victory!" Emie didn't listen to the rest of his speech.

She had been struck.

By an apparition.

Behind Stewart had approached another man, on foot this time, wearing the same green outfit and cap, though, as he was standing behind the black horse, obviously of an inferior rank.

His hair, between sandy brown and bronze, was hiding under his cap. His cheekbones were high, he was most probably gritting his teeth as showed the movements of his jaws, and he had one of the most beautiful pair of eyes the world had ever seen.

Blue as no one had ever encountered.

Emie gulped.

"Stop staring, you're making me look like an idiot." She elbowed Henry in the ribs. He chuckled. She looked back at the Major.

"Dr Lennings. Nice to see you again."

Once the Major had gotten down his magnificent horse, he had approached Emie and Henry, and had outstretched a hand to shake with the doctor.

"Yeah. Nice to see you too, Stewart."

Henry then turned to Emie. "This is Dr Tate, my assistant and pupil. Emie, this is Major Jaime Stewart."

He took his cap off, revealing perfectly combed hair, and kissed the back of her hand. "Pleasure to meet you, Miss Tate."

"Likewise, Major."

He retreated and the man she had been staring at earlier walked forward. Stewart put a hand on his shoulder. "This is my good friend, Captain James Nicholls."

His heels knocked together, and he equally kissed Emie's hand, without looking at her directly though, she noticed.

Henry cleared his throat. "Well, I must admit, we weren't waiting for you this early."

Stewart sighed and turned to Nicholls. "Unfortunately, James has trouble finding a good horse to ride, so we had to move in here early, seeing as you apparently have some nice specimen around here."

Henry chuckled. "Oh, I'm sure Captain Nicholls will find the perfect horse for him." The two soldiers started walking, presuming the two doctors to follow them. Henry finished his sentence. "Him and his pretty girl's ass."

Emie chuckled. "Really, Henry, if I didn't know you, I'd say you're jealous."

"I am. Look at him. As fresh as the morning breeze. Of course you'd look at a man like him."

She turned her head to her friend. "Don't say things like that."

"Don't mind me. Go and stare at Nicholls' pretty face for as long as you like. I have another battle to win." His hands shook again, so strongly he had to push them onto a table.

Emie turned around and hid her tears.

So, she has met Pretty Guy. And Henry's upset. Good.

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