Nines shot up in his cot with a chilling jolt, panting breathlessly as he looked around, rubbing his face. He was in his tent at the resting camp. Markus was sound asleep in the cot beside his, likely just returned from his shift. He flopped back in relief, slowing his restless breaths and resting an arm across his tired eyes. He could have sworn he'd heard Gavin. His body felt disgusting. The lingering cold sweat remained. He could just barely remember the horror of the night before. The persistent, nightmarish memory that haunted him.
He'd jumped over the top, trudged relentlessly through the rotting sludge to where Gavin lay. He remembered turning him over this time to find faded, vacant eyes staring back. His breath had caught, body frozen as he'd stared down in disbelief. It wasn't right! It wasn't supposed to be that way! He'd let out a small sob as he'd desperately clawed at Gavin's face, pushing the cloying mud aside to get a look at his pale lips. His mouth hung limp, breathless and unmoving. That wasn't what happened! That wasn't how I found him! He had to repeat it over and over to chase the nightmare away. Gavin is safe…He's alive and well…
The dream had circled somewhat, looping and trapping him in a never-ending cycle of death and despair, taunting and mocking him with all the things that may have happened. But they didn't…Gavin was alive when I found him. Connor got him back in time…He survived and he's safe. He reached for the picture at his bedside and stared at it for reassurance. It was Gavin. The picture was barely a few weeks old. He was alive and well. He'd write to him again soon. Perhaps he'd have news to share. It would certainly be better than anything he had to say.
He'd lost another three patients to the fever still ravishing their ranks. The recruits they'd been promised still hadn't arrived. Sixty was currently battling a fever. They'd kept on top of his infection, so it wasn't that. He could only assume he'd caught the flu while walking around the camp. I should have been stricter about him staying in bed…He couldn't blame himself. Sixty had a will of his own. He was reckless, like Gavin. He smiled at the thought. His reckless streak had been one of the main attractions. It was like he'd needed a more level head to even it out.
He turned his head with a fond sigh. It was grey out. Dawn hadn't even broken yet. He closed his eyes and listened. It was peaceful. He could hear the murmuring voices of men on their rounds, probably heading for breakfast at this early hour. There was the clinking of pots and pans. Tent flaps flapping in the breeze. Water pouring in the dirt. Grass crunching underfoot. Boots. A truck. That was all. No gunfire. No shells. No fearful yells or moans of agony. He couldn't help feeling relieved. It probably wouldn't last. His stomach dropped at the thought. Assaults came in waves, and they'd only taken one so far. It was likely quiet because they were preparing for the second. Could it be that they're just as under manned as we are? He hoped so. He also hoped their reinforcements were just as poorly organised.
Now that he was awake, and with that nightmare still hanging over him, he knew he wouldn't go back to sleep. Getting up to start his day, he headed for the latrine first, relieved to find there wasn't a queue this early in the morning. He was in and out relatively quickly and returned to his tent to grab his toothbrush and water cannister. Shaking it, he found he still had a little left from the night before. He put a squeeze of paste on his brush before putting it straight in his mouth and wandering to the treeline. Many soldiers were lax in their dental hygiene. However, as a doctor, he knew better. After he finished, he rinsed his brush and wiped his mouth on his sleeve.
He closed his eyes a moment, enjoying the cool morning breeze as it ruffled his hair and swept through the leaves with a gentle rustle. Birds were singing. A rarity. He wasn't sure whether he just failed to notice it during their worst periods or if the birds abandoned the trees with all the fighting going on. He envied them being free enough to fly away. The camp was louder as he returned, and somewhat excited. He wasn't sure why, but a good mood seemed to have swept through in his absence. Luckily, Connor was already in the dining tent, ready to enlighten him.
"It's bath day!" he exclaimed as Nines joined him with his watered down porridge. Now that was something to celebrate. It happened around once every ten days, and it was one of the few opportunities to completely change uniforms and have a real scrub down. He almost sighed in relief at the thought. It was good timing, what with the cold sweat the night before and Sixty's fever. A bath was probably just the thing to perk them up.
"That's a relief. I turned into quite the pampered prince, staying with Gavin in England. I miss being clean." Connor chuckled his agreement. He and Sixty had also made the most of Elijah's hospitality. They hadn't used them nightly, but they had certainly made good use of the baths. "Have you checked in on Sixty this morning? He should bathe if he's strong enough." He was tempted to carry him down there, even if he wasn't.
"I did. He's still running a temperature, but he's more awake than he was. I think his lungs are clearing, too." He'd had a hacking cough for a good few days prior to that, and he hadn't even been smoking. He wasn't allowed. Connor had confiscated his tobacco. Hearing that was promising. The wheeze of the lungs was the most dangerous part. If that was clearing, then the fever should soon follow. "He was just eating breakfast when I left." That was also good. The return of his appetite was a good sign he was on the mend.
"When will the baths be ready?" If all went well, he could bathe before his shift. Connor had only heard a few minutes ago that they were being set up, so he wasn't entirely sure. It would take time to boil enough water to fill the massive tubs. Luckily, as a ranking officer, Nines would be in the first group. Connor was usually in that first group as well, being an on-duty medic. Since he was in the camp, they could probably bring Sixty with them. He'd need help bathing in his current state anyway. Nines continued eating as Connor went to check. The baths were half full, and fresh clothing was ready to be handed out.
After breakfast, they got their bathing supplies ready and wrangled Sixty. It took a surprising amount of coaxing to get him out of bed. Despite his reluctance, Nines could see he was a lot better than the day before. His skin was less pale, and the clammy sheen had gone. He swatted at Nines as he tried to pull him up; the objection cutting off into a hacking cough before it even left his lips. Nines sighed and patted his back sympathetically. It was probably a good thing for him to cough and clear his lungs a little. His breathing was a lot better.
As expected, despite whining like a baby the whole way there, Sixty was a lot happier once he was submerged in the steaming water. They'd stripped out of their clothes at the entrance and tossed them into the waiting boxes. The clothes would be cleaned and hung out to dry, completely sterilised and cleaned of lice. They'd been fairly lucky in the camp. It was a problem, but nothing compared to what he'd heard from others. He wasn't sure if they bathed more regularly or if their area just happened to have less of the pesky little insects. Either way, he was glad he'd managed to keep his uniform relatively clear.
"Wow, this soap is really nice!" Connor sighed as he rubbed the bar between his hands. Nines smiled, please that he was happy. He settled back against the rounded edge of the huge wooden tub. They couldn't take too long. Others were waiting, but he had enough time to relax a moment. Sixty seemed just as content. He was almost falling asleep, eyes fluttering as he leaned back. Nines allowed him to do so for a minute. It was good that he was resting. The steam would help his sinuses, and the water would warm him through.
"Sixty, time to get clean," he coaxed as he reached across and ran a hand through his damp hair. Sixty hummed an almost sulky objection, clearly enjoying his slow soak. Nines huffed as he shook him awake, being met with a small scowl of resentment. "Get cleaned up so I can get you back to bed. I'll make you some tea after, and perhaps a dram of brandy." The alcohol would warm him through and help break up the mucus. The bribe also made Sixty a lot more agreeable as he allowed himself to be pulled up.
"Tea and cookies does sound good…" Connor agreed with a contented sigh before ducking his head beneath the surface. Cookies were a luxury often denied them on the front, but they still had quite a bit left from Chloe's care packages. Despite sharing out some items, everyone was making them last. You never knew when you'd have a bad day and need a pick-me-up. Today was one of those rare good days that should be savoured. Nines hummed his agreement as he lathered his own skin, keeping a watchful eye on Sixty as he did the same. He was especially watchful as he cleaned his wounded hand.
"Let me see…" He was gentle as he took his hand and looked it over. He was pleased with the progress. Since he'd had his hand restitched, it had healed well enough for the stitches to be removed. The thick scab was mended enough to no longer need a bandage since he wasn't at the front, and he was infection free. "It's looking good…With any luck, you should be free to leave as soon as your fever breaks."
"Well, that's a relief," Sixty grumbled as he ducked beneath the water. He'd never say that he missed Allen, but Nines was sure that he did. He was also bored. The fever had kept him sleeping for the past few days, but before then, he'd been insufferable. He had a short, griping temper. Nines and Connor dealt with him exclusively. They wouldn't inflict him on anyone else. The only other person who had any mild success with him was North. She had a fiery temper that rivalled his on the best of days. Whenever their bickering started, Markus or Connor would invariably be there to break it up. If he weren't a patient, Nines was quite certain North would have punched him by now.
"Did you get another letter from lover-boy yet?" Sixty asked as he scrubbed Connor's back. Connor sighed and leaned further into the firm, circling touch. Sixty was rough when it came to combat, but his back massages were amazing. He seemed to know it too as he pressed harder into Connor's spine and had him whining. Nines' good mood dropped somewhat at that. It hadn't been that long since he'd sent his last letter, and the one before that may not have reached him either. I hope he gets at least one of them, lest he think I've forgotten…Not to mention how ungrateful he'd seem. Luckily, Connor and Sixty had also written. With any luck, at least one of their letters would make it through.
"No, but I only sent a letter last week. Thus far, mail has taken at least two weeks to get from there to here. It takes even longer for our letters to get out." He didn't mention the risk of them being lost entirely. Was that what happened? Had their mail been intercepted and stolen away? It was a sad thought. He blinked as Sixty splashed him.
"Don't look so glum! I'm sure he'll be reading and mooning over your love letter soon enough and writing back some sappy shit of his own." Nines smiled. He appreciated the effort to cheer him up. He appreciated it even more as Sixty had him turn around so that he could scrub his back. Nines sighed as Sixty's fingers worked around his shoulder blades. He was stiff and sore from long days standing over patients and leaning over beds. Filling in charts, writing letters, administering medication. "You scrub like a girl! Press harder!" Sixty teased as he looked over his shoulder at Connor. Connor pouted somewhat as he did as he was told, though Sixty seemed satisfied as he pressed back into his teasing fingers.
Nines ducked under the water again. All they needed to do was wash their hair, and they'd be out. They were lucky no one had hurried them along yet, though officers were generally afforded extra time. Extra time or not, Nines didn't want to slow down the others. Everyone looked forward to bath day. It was also good that it was warm out. Baths on cold days were the worst. As soon as you were out of the tub, the cold from the open flaps would hit. It was actually nice, climbing out on a warm day. He grabbed a towel and wrapped his waist, reaching back to help Sixty over the edge. Connor quickly followed, and the three of them headed through to get new uniforms.
In the dressing tent, they finished drying off and pulled on their new clothes. It was still the same uncomfortably scratchy material, but at least it was fresh, pressed, and lice free. He was pleased to see Sixty looking so much better. The hot water had warmed him through, returning the pink to his skin. It had also soothed his sinuses and calmed his chest. A few more days of rest and he should be good as new. They returned Sixty to his cot, and Connor hurried off to make some tea. It wasn't quite time for their duties to begin, so they could sit with Sixty for a while.
"You promised me a dram." Nines rolled his eyes. Of course, Sixty would remember that. He dutifully took Sixty's tin cup and poured him a measure of brandy. A large one. Nines didn't drink at the front, and the bigger measure would help Sixty sleep. Connor was already back when he returned, happily unwrapping one of the cookies he'd saved. Nines smiled his thanks as Connor handed him his tea and offered him a cookie. He sighed as he sat. It was quite a rarity, the three of them being together for more than an hour. Usually, Sixty was at the front and Nines' and Connor's shifts overlapped. They'd steal a meal together here and there, but having all three of them together was nice. "Fuck, this tastes like shit." Despite his declaration, Sixty looked blissfully happy as he cradled the tin cup against his chest.
"Only the best for the troops…" Connor chuckled as he sipped his tea. Nines sipped his own. The stewed leaves barely covered the cleaning chemicals in the water, but it wasn't as bad as some of the other things he'd had to drink. It was warm and somewhat soothing, though he missed the coffee they got back in America. Gavin had often complained about it, too. Phcking Brits and their piss weak leaf water! Where's the coffee? He was sure there was coffee around the mansion, though the tea had also been better there. Stronger, and without the chemical aftertaste.
Nines didn't know how long this brief peace would last, but he hoped for a long time. He closed his eyes as he thought back to his dream that morning. All the ways he'd been too late. All the ways he'd watched Gavin die. The cry of his name on Gavin's lips returned at the thought of it. He needed to remind himself more than once that Gavin was safe. Gavin was in England. Gavin was fine.