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The aftermath of battle was always eerily silent, Leta’s ears still rang from the near constant shelling and lasfire of the passed week.
Now there was peace, Men talked in exhausted but happy voices, others just collapsed to their knees, the need to survive had been the only thing keeping them awake, others just hugged their friends, laughing until it turned into sobs.
“Help!” Milo’s broken voice broke the silence like a knife through butter “Please!”
Bragg rose to his feet, as fast as lightning to help the boy, Leta rose her weary head, she could see that Milo had someone propped up on his shoulders, practically dragging the injured man along.
Her heart sank, It was Gaunt.
“Medic!” Bragg took the weight from Milo, resting Gaunt against his huge frame as if he was nothing “Its the Commissar!”
There were no medics close, Leta knew that, because she had bandaged some of the Ghosts lesser wounds herself.
“No time..” She rose to her feet, she gestured to the bench she had been sitting on, a plank across two cinder blocks. “Put him down.”
“Middenlocke..” Bragg started
“Dorden’s taught me enough.”
“Its nasty.”
“I can handle it.”
Bragg nodded and placed Gaunt down, he was pale, too pale, the injury was a large gash across his stomach, almost parallel to the other scar he had, the wound was about four inches long and two inches deep.
“What happened?” Leta poured the water from her canteen on hands, in a vague attempt to wash the mud from her palms
“Blast knocked him over, into razor wire.” Milo replied, he looked as pale as Gaunt.
“Razor wire..” Leta repeated “Right..”
She reached into one of the pouches on her belt and pulled out the small medical tin, she opened it and pulled out the alcohol wipes.
“Gaunt..” She touched his face, he was covered in mud, his eyes barely open “Ibram..”
He smiled “I know, this is going to hurt like fuck.”
She laughed, “Yes…sorry.”
“Just get it over with.”
“Yes sir.”
She gingerly wiped the wipe across the wound, Gaunt inhaled sharply, but other than that remained silent, with the area clean, Leta grabbed the needle and stitches, she thread the needle in a way that she saw Milo and Bragg gawp at.
“You’re good at that.” Milo muttered
“Seamstress hands.”
Gaunt chuckled, “Dorden will want to recruit you.”
“He’s already tried, But if I’m in the med tent, who’ll save Bragg’s huge arse?”
Gaunt smiled, and then instantly frowned as the needle pierced his skin, the muscles of his abdomen twitched, he was strong, carved from marble, he wasn’t supposed to be able to bleed and hurt like a mortal.
If Leta thought of him as able to die, the worry would drive her to madness, she pushed it to the back of her mind and focused on stopping the bleeding.
“Sorry.” She sighed “I’ll be as quick as I can, Promise.”
He nodded.
It was fairly simple to stitch the wound shut, if she ignored the way Gaunt’s hands twitched with each pass of the needle.
“There..” She tied off the thread and stepped back, ignoring the fact her hands were now wet with Gaunt’s blood. “Not the best..but it’ll be okay until a proper doctor can look at you.”
Bragg passed Gaunt his canteen, no doubt it contained sacra, and judging by the way Gaunt sipped from it, Leta was right.
But after a few moments, the color returned to his face and he sat up.
“Thank you, Brin.” He nodded to Milo
Milo nodded back “Of course, sir.”
“Leta..” He sat up, slowly, but surely. “Good job with these stitches..”
Leta held out a hand “Come on, I’ll escort you to the med tent.”
He took it, she frowned as the blood transferred from her palm to his
“I’m more than okay do tha-”
“If I let you go, you won’t see Dorden unless carried there.” She gripped his hand tighter. “So please sir, I insist.”
“Then I see no point in arguing..”
They walked to the end of the trench, in silence, hand in hand, it was when they reached the end did he put his arms around her, gently, so as to not pop the fresh stitches.
“Never do that again.” She muttered into his shoulder, fresh tears streaking through the mud on her face “Understand? You don’t get to die, not yet.”
He laughed, “I’ll try my best not to die unless granted your permission.”
“Good.”
She wiped her face on his coat, still soft, even caked in blood and mud.
“If you do, I’ll be really pissed off with you.”
“I won’t.” He laughed and kissed her forehead “I promise.”